^^^smacketh upon yew, tew.
and here come the words... (heh)
i do know it's hard for some folk to get into my spirit of the thing. many reasons for that, of course. just in general, it's hard to separate out that conflicted jumble of emotions.
part of it: when her birthday comes around, that's the day when i have the least trouble running out into a field with a bullhorn and some bubbly, yelling, "yeahhh, baybees, beezle time. honor the beezle. find yer inner beezleness. find other beezles and luvvingly paint their butts. beezle it out, beezle it forward, bitches."
but *i* have the other 364 days of the year when i handle my philosophical balancing act, spread out. the person who hits me doing it on that day, especially the steamrolling beezlepalooza on my FB wall... that's probably his or her hardest day on my wall. mwhaha. (not that any of em are a walk in the park. ahem.)
it's hard cuz folk care about me, sympathize with such painful loss. other parents are keenly aware of that core parental fear, losing a child. other people are keenly aware of what loss of a beluvved is, period. that whole mix of powerful tangled up stuff trying to somehow live with bullhorn bubbly kath and her beezlepoms. mwhaha.
i get all that. all that makes me wanna slobber on people with gooey luvvv. but if i could, i would very gently grab the bottom of the chin of those who might need it and have em redirect. to beezleness, not my loss.
another part of it: that screwy philosophy of mine.
of course, we respond differently to the loss of a child at the start of the lifeline than we do to great gramps who died at age 112. we want people to have good, long lives. we want to be around our belluvveds as long as possible. personally, such losses anywhere along the line hurt just as fucquin much, but we have this idea of what a normal lifespan is, and we use it as a measurement of quality. understandable.
we also expect, like, kids to outlive their parents, and their kids to outlive them. that's the way it's sposed to work. the way it usually works. we're wired as humans to care on a zillion levels about those future lines still runnin after we're long gone. understandable.
but i think we get so caught up in thinking-by-lines, we can get just as blinded by em.
we think, okay, if my trip is 80 years... oops, 80 miles... well, if i just get in my car and handle things the way i should, i'm gonna get my stretch of 80... before i do my thelma-n-louise over the cliff. mind ya, nobody really wants to think about that cliff. people go into denial about it. just focus on the road, groovy. stare at the road. line driving.
then being humans, we add variations. okay, if i can just take everybody i luvv, throw em in the back seat of my car, we can all get thru the stretch to that hazyfuzzyendcliff together, all will be well.
then we start comparing lines with other people's lines. mwhaha. or we start putting sections of lines under a zoom lens. okayyy... maybe in this case, 20 miles is good enough. or 50. better than nuthin, although ideally, look at these miles they missed, man. damn.
if we have kids... it's, okay, i'm gonna get em there, before i cliffdive. by then, they'll know how to drive and they can handle their own car. that's what'll bridge the cliff.
but this way of thinking can be its own delusional offroad hazard. it becomes a numbers/mile markers game. a life cut too short. too short for what? some may think a handful of years is just negligible. those several extra years i got with the beez mean everything to me. when ya get right down to it, everybody's life is cut too fucquin short. blink of an eye, however you wanna total it up
yessss, we're all gonna die. everyone we love will die. and yer point would be...? to me, that fact is the least significant common denominator among humans. it's like sayin, oh look, we all have a pancreas. yeehaw.
when it comes to celebrating folk we love? the truth is, why we love a person or feel that person should be shared has nuthin to do with DNA, social definitions of family, the number of years said person existed on the planet... or even if they happen to be standing in the same room with us. at its most oversimplified, we know that a day with a person who inspires you or happifies yer life can mean more than 20 years with a friend who only ever borrows yer fucquin lawnmower.
what we reallly luv about each other... what we really wanna project over that cliff... has nuthin to do with bio-drive or half-empty/half-full line perception. when voyager took off with its chuck berry and bach, the point was not to launch chuck's pancreas across the cliff of space so that some alien docs could clone up a lil alien resurrection VII: johnny b borg. it *was* the impulse to say, heyyy, look, this is what's really groovy about us, listen to this shit, huh? (and if i coulda put beezle art in there, it would be look at this shit, huh?) that's the point. not whether a zillion years from now, when some alien finds voyager in his mailbox, we humans even still exist.
zoom in the lens a bit. what we luvv about bach has zero to do with how long he lived. people listen to jimi hendrix and they may say... oh, what if he could've had a full life? they might say that... but that aint the reason they're listenin to jimi hendrix. mwhaha. whatever is worthwhile about him is a function of his life, not his death. whatever grooviness passed on is a function of grooviness, not a timer.
on a personal, small scale, the principle is the same for me. what's groovy about beezleness, why we would wanna share it or spread it, has nuthin to do with whether she is still physically in the car. it is even more important for me to up-with-beezle becuz i flatout refuse to let what's great about her be backburnered becuz she is seen in terms of THE most understandable, sympathetic, sweet, acute reaction of all: caring about my pain. i'm gonna be stubborn about it, too. mwhaha.
bottom line: when i say i'm celebrating e's day of birth, what i am hoping for is for everyone to put on a party hat, crank some cocteaus (excellent track, maarts) and paint a beluvved other's butt. *i* think that is beezling it forward, voyagering it out... the meaning of life. ya ya.
realistically, i know not everyone can do that. overall? i thank everyone who does that. i also thank everyone who even attempts to do that. i thank everyone who fakes doing that. i add even more thanks to everyone who just shows up at the party to hug me cuz they don't know how the fucque to handle the rest of it and they want me to know they care... everybody.
i am gonna miss elizabeth standing in the room with me everyday for the rest of my life. ya? it's just that in the end, my missing her isn't nearly as important to me as the her part of it. the her that still surrounds me and functions inside of me, better than my pancreas. the her that deserves to be celebrated for her own sake, and how that might bebeezle others. the eternal wondrosity of the infinite beez uber alles. (feel free to replace the word beez with the beluvved name of yer own personal choosing, by the way. it's all the same point, ya know.)
and now i will put up pictures, for those who still have eyes after this post.
Last edited by kath
on 24 Sep 2013, 19:49, edited 1 time in total.